Johnny Gator (7 page)

“Johnny?”

“
Oui
,
cher
?”

“Can
you control it?”

“If
you mean
becomin
’ a gator, I can sometimes,” he said.
“I couldn’t at first.
 
It would just
happen, so I became some kind of hermit.
 
It’s been about five years now, though, and mostly I can control it.
 
I can hang on if I feel it
comin
’ on me, until I’m alone.
 
If I get upset or mad I’m more likely to
change, and it happens more when the moon’s full than any other time.”

“So
when you left that day and I asked if you were all right, your body was trying
to
shift?
”

“That’s
right.
 
I held it back until I got out of
sight.”

“And
it happened because I upset you by talking about the gator? And it was
you?”

“
Oui
.
”

Nola
drew in a deep breath,
then
exhaled hard and fast.
“Okay, if you want me to believe this, then you’ll have to show me.”

His
brown face
changed, mouth open wide and eyes huge.
“You want me to become a gator while you watch me? I
never
done
that before.
 
Nobody but old
Delphina
ever saw it happen.”

“It’s
the only way I’ll believe
it’s
true. Will you?”

Johnny
gazed at her and nodded. “I will, for you,
cher
,
because I love you, woman.
 
I don’t know
how soon I can change back, though.
 
That’s harder.”

“I’ll
wait.”

“All
right,” he said. He stripped off his jeans, his shirt, shoes, and socks as she
watched. “Here goes
nothin
’.”

He
walked out into the yard, closer to the lake, and shut his eyes.
 
In the first moments, Nola feared nothing
would happen and that it would mean he was nuts after all.
 
But after a full minute passed, his body began
to twitch, arms and legs first, then the rest.
 
Johnny bowed over as if he suffered a pain in his gut,
then
dropped down to all fours.
 
He rocked back and forth, groaning and
grunting.
 
His mouth twisted into a hard
line and as she settled into the rocker to watch, his features began to
elongate, to shift from face to snout.

With
a clear line of sight, Nola saw him lift his ass higher into the air as it grew
and lengthened into a tail.
 
A patch of
rough, hard hide appeared in the center of Johnny’s back and she observed how
it spread across his skin. The hide soon covered his entire body, and by that
time
 
the
transformation was almost complete.
 
The
creature shuddered,
then
opened its wide mouth to
display a double row of teeth.
 
Something
about the grin, though, retained something of Johnny’s spirit, she
thought.
 
Then it bellowed before
waddling to the lake and entering the water.
 
The last she saw, it swam out into Caddo and vanished.

She
sat on the porch and wept, shaken to her core with what she had witnessed, and
uncertain just how in the hell they would—or could—proceed from here.

Chapter Five

Nola
cried until her nose clogged and her throat ached.
 
She didn’t need to look into a mirror to see
that her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.
 
So it was true—the man she loved could turn into an alligator.
 
And, he had transformed as she watched.
 
Any lingering denial died as she sorrowed for
all Jean Batiste had lost.
 
He wasn’t a
natural man anymore but what was he? She wondered.
 
Shape-shifter?
Monster?
Spellbound? Whatever she might decide to call it,
he’d never live an ordinary life.
 
Nola
longed to share it with him but she wasn’t sure if she could handle the reality
of it.

She
had promised to wait and she would.
 
By
noon, the steady heat from the overhead sun drove her into the house.
 
Hands shaking, nerves shattered, Nola
scrubbed the tearstains from her face and poured a glass of iced tea from the
fridge.
 
Then she settled onto the rump-sprung
old couch near the window and stared toward the lake, watching for him.
 
Later, when it became cooler, she’d return to
the porch.

Near
dusk when the evening breezes rippled across the water and stirred the Spanish
moss, Nola saw the big gator moving toward shore.
 
Although she found it hard to see in the dim
light, she never doubted it would be Johnny, so she exited the rocker and walked
down to the edge of the lake.
 
The
massive creature came onto land and then began to thrash about, shoulders
twitching until it appeared to be suffering a massive seizure.
 
Nola approached with caution, afraid the tail
might smack her with enough force to hurt.
 

“Jean
Batiste, if you can hear me, I’m here,” she said.

Noises
sounding like moans and groans came from the gator’s open mouth.
 
It dug its claws hard into the muddy bank as
it convulsed until she thought it could die.
 
She squatted down a few feet away and wished she could touch it.
 
Maybe it would soothe some of the apparent
agony—or maybe not.

The
claws on the rear feet began to resemble toes, the first sign Johnny was
shifting back to human.
 
As his body
bowed into a fetal position, his head changed and his ass shrank back to normal
proportions.
 
Nola figured the entire
process took almost an hour, much longer than becoming an alligator, and the
last thing had been the changes from thick gator hide back to skin. Heedless of
the mud, she sat down beside him and stroked his filthy hair. “Johnny,
darlin
’, it’s me.
 
You’re back.”

He
muttered something in Cajun French, too fast and low for her to catch, then
added,

“
Gotta
sleep.”

Nola
strained her muscles shifting him upright until he leaned against her. “Let me
get you to the house,
then
you can sleep.
 
You can’t sleep out here, not again.
 
Can you stand up?”

“
Non
,
I don’t think so.” His voice
trembled, soft and faint.

“I’ll
help you.”

“
Tres
bon,”
he whispered.

It
proved to be a lot harder than she expected.
 
Johnny’s larger frame turned out to be hard to shift when he couldn’t
help, dead weight she struggled to maneuver into place.
 
Nola almost gave up but when she started
talking to him, he made an effort.

“Come
on, Jean Batiste,” she said. “I can’t carry you. You have to help me by
standing up. I know it’s hard and I’m sure it hurts but you have to do it.”

With
difficulty and clumsy motions, he pulled himself to his feet.
 
Nola wrapped an arm around his waist and he
leaned on her so hard she almost toppled.
 
The distance to the cabin seemed incredibly long but they managed it,
one faltering step at a time.
 
He had
roused enough when they reached the porch steps to help, and once through the
door he staggered with her assistance toward the bathroom.

“I
can’t stand anymore,
cher
,”
he told her. “Put me on the bed.”

“Bath
first, then bed,” Nola replied.

Somehow,
she got him folded into the bathtub.
 
Instead of running the tub full, she used the shower wand to hose him
down.
 
First, she rinsed away as much of
the caked-on mud and dirt as she could, then she lathered his skin with body
wash.
 
Nola scrubbed from his thick hair
down to his toes while he lay, inert, eyes closed.
 
She thought he might have fallen asleep until
he spoke.

“Merci beaucoup,
cher
,”

Tears
burned in her eyes and choked her throat. “You’re welcome. Let’s get you dried
off and in bed,
then
you can rest.”

Once
she had him tucked beneath the sheets, pillows piled under his head, Nola sat
down in the bamboo peacock chair beside him.
 
Even in sleep, the harsher lines around his mouth remained deep.
 
She stroked hair back from his face and bent
down to kiss his slack mouth.

“
Sleep
well,
darlin
’,” she
whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Nola
lost track of time as the dark hours of the night passed.
 
When the first bright rays of sun crept above
the trees, she yawned and stretched while Johnny still slept.
 
Hunger drove her to the kitchen where she made
a sandwich and she returned with a glass of iced tea in her hand.
 
He stirred a few times but didn’t awaken, and
fatigue wrapped Nola like a blanket.
 
She
slept, too, and when she woke again, sunlight streamed through the bedroom
window and she had no idea what time it might be.
 

“You’re
still here.” Johnny’s voice broke the silence and Nola gazed at him.
 
His green eyes met hers, open and full of
tears.

“I
told you I would be,” she said and began to cry.

“Don’t,
cher
,”
he told her. “Don’t cry. It’s not a
sad day.”

She
sniffed. “You are.”

He
grinned. “Mine are tears of joy, because you’re here. I thought you’d leave
after you saw me change.”

“But
I didn’t.”

“
Oui
,
I know. And you cleaned me up,
took care of me.
 
Ain’t
no one
ever done that before, Nola.”

Her
fingers curled around his, tight as kudzu. “How do you feel?”

“Good,”
he said. “I’m hungry.
How ‘bout some gumbo?”

Laughter
erupted. “I could try to make some but I doubt it would be as good as my
grandmother’s was and it’ll take
awhile
.”

“Johnny
shook his head. “There’s some in the freezer, already made, all you got to do
is heat it up.”

Over
the rich Cajun stew, she couldn’t stop looking at him or touching him.

“I
don’t even know what time it is,” she told him.

“Ah,
I don’t have any idea what day this is,” he answered.

“The
gumbo is good, though, better than anything I could make.”

He
swallowed a spoonful and cocked one eyebrow upward. “Do you cook Cajun at all,
cher
?”

His
question threw her but she answered with honesty. “Not much, no.
 
Mamere
taught me a little but I just never learned much
beyond that. Besides, I grew up in Texas so I’m great with frying things and
chicken fried steak.
 
I guess I could
learn
,
if you want me to, Jean Batiste.”

“Why?”
he asked. “I cook Cajun and I cook
good
, so why
bother? If you want to learn, I’ll teach you, yes, but you don’t have to do it,
boo. I’ll cook the traditional dishes for us.”

Nola’s
heart trembled. “You sound sure that we’ll be together.”

His
smile would reduce any woman to a boneless, emotional heap. “I am,
cher
,
aren’t
you?”

Talk
about being on the hot seat.
 
She
summoned up enough bravado to give him the truth. “I’m hopeful and I do want
that for us.
 
I’m
 
just
trying to figure out how it could
work.”

“You
have to take me like I am, boo,” Johnny said.
 
He sounded more than a little hurt. “This is how I am and I
ain’t
likely to change.”

She
put down her spoon. “What if you could, though, what then?”

Johnny’s
eyes widened and his grin vanished.
“
Sacre
bleu!
Woman, you’re
crazy. Don’t think I haven’t thought about this for five long years? It’s
impossible, there’s no way.”

“I
don’t give up so easily,” Nola said. “What would it hurt to try to find one?”

He
shook his head back and forth. “Hope when there’s none,
cher
,
is a bad thing because when you
realize what you want can’t happen, it’ll bring you down big time.
 
You’ll end up disappointed and then you might
resent me for being this way.”